Still Breathing
by Rathorian
Summary: Hope, it's what a world cast in shadow and doubt needed most. It's what two Marines needed most when their worlds were spinning and fear gripped their hearts.
1. Short of Breath

"Everything! It's all turning off and it will never come back on!" God how those simple words haunted his dreams. He wasn't sure how Ben had known, not at first, but as the days went by and everything remained shut off, Miles realized he didn't care how his brother knew. All he cared about was reaching Ben and Rachel and tiny Charli and frail Danny.

Days turned to weeks, weeks into months, until finally it was nearly a year after the blackout. both he and Bass had long since given up on finding them; they had settled down, the pair joining together with another group, Miles forced to accept that his family was likely dead. Forced to accept that Bass was the last of his family.

But then he saw those golden tresses, a small form weaving between the various tents before blue eyes locked onto his form and all the tension and sorrow that had built up in that year diminished. "Uncle Miles!" The words were squealed, that small form catapulting at him. Miles wasn't sure when he ended up on the ground, but suddenly he was there on his ass. Muscled arms were curled tight around the sobbing girl, his face hidden in her golden locks and her freckles face hidden against his neck. He didn't care how long he sat there, his niece wrapped in his embrace, and he certainly didn't care how that his cheeks were wet and his throat was tight. Because Charli was there, which meant Ben and Danny and Rachel were close. It meant his family was safe and alive. It meant he and Bass weren't alone like they thought.

He faintly heard the sound of his brother saying his name, briefly caught sight of longer golden hair in his peripheral vision, and he startled when a heavy hand clasped his shoulder. "C'mon," Bass grunted, helping the man stand, but Miles could see it. Miles could see the relief mirrored in Bass's eyes, the stress of the year erased from his face and shoulders. Charlie hiccuped in her uncle's arms before she threw herself out of them and into Sebastian's instead with a joyous cry of "Bastian!" That was all it took for the Marine to break, hand falling from Miles' shoulder to wrap his own arms around the girl. "Charlotte," he whispered back in greeting, holding her tight against him. Charlie scolded him briefly, but her voice was muffled by his shoulder and her legs had secured around the General's hips, keeping herself locked against him.

No words were shared between Miles and Ben as the brothers clasped one another in their own hug, and Ben didn't say anything as Miles hugged Rachel and ruffled Danny's hair, the boy still in a little red wagon, watching his uncle warily. Charli maintained her grip on Sebastian, but her blue eyes were finally on her family again, Sebastian giving brief words of greeting to his pseudo family.

They were all back together, and that was all that mattered right now. Everything else could wait until they managed to convince themselves this wasn't some cruel joke the universe was playing on them while they slept.

**_Hey y'all! I hope you like this little intro! i never understood why Ben and Rachel didnt go in search of Miles and Bass when they first heard of the beginning stages of the republic forming, so here is my take on what i think should have happened! _**


	2. Sunset on the Horizon

Charlie was eleven the first time it happened since they had joined up with her uncle. Sebastian and Miles knew it was only a matter if time, their ever growing camp was one of the few thriving, even if they still struggled themselves some days.

Bass had told Miles, firmly, that the ragged bunch of tattooed men should not be welcomed into the group. Charlie had agreed wholeheartedly. There was something off about the group, she could feel it in her very bones, but her mother and father did not share that sentiment and Miles relented and welcomed the group of seven into the group.

Three days, that was all it took for those seven men with arms the size of her head to prove her and Sebastian right. The sun had just set, the sky growing darker by the second, and the first scream rose up. By morning, their previous camp of forty nine was down to eighteen, and Charlie's family was down by one.

The teen sat numbly by the blood spattered corpse of Ben, blue eyes cold and void, hands poised on her lap, stained crimson. Her jaw was bruised, along with her left eye and collar bone; her left wrist was broken, and she had a fresh gash from her belly button to the waistband of her dirty jeans. Had it not been for Bass, she would probably be where Ben laid.

Rachel had yet to shed a tear, her arms wrapped around six year old Danny who sobbed tirelessly in her arms. "C'mon, Charlie," it was Bass, lifting her carefully from the ground as if she weighed nothing, though she knew it must hurt. She had seen the blade that had been tearing through her shirt slice into the Marine's side, she knew that beneath his shirt there was an angry gash sloppily stitched together. She couldn't bring herself to refuse the hold though, her head simply falling to rest on his shoulders, hands fisted into his shirt.

"We'll set out once we bury them," her uncle's voice was softer than she had ever heard it. She couldn't meet his eyes, she couldn't look at the man who not be three days prior had allowed those monsters into their camp despite her and Bass telling him not to. The morning sun suddenly vanished, the canvas of Sebastian's tent surrounding them in a warm cocoon and he carefully set her on his cot, carefully examining her face, then her wrist, then her stomach. He stitched the gash in silence, and she supposed it probably should have hurt -- it didn't. She didn't feel anything, not even as the needle pierced the sensitive tissue and pulled it back together.

"Will you teach me?" Her voice surprised them both. Small and frail, hoarse from being choked earlier in the night. Bass frowned at the girl, not understanding. "To fight," she elaborated, her gaze flickering up briefly so that blue connected with blue before she looked away again. Sebastian hesitated, fingers ghosting over the previously smooth skin of her belly as he stitched.

"Yes." It was the only thing he could say, his mind taking him back to sundown, the scream that came from her tent. His hands balled into fists against the scratchy bedsheets, jaw clenching with barely concealed anger. He remember her squirming and thrashing, her eyes wide with panic and filled with tears. He remembered the fear fading to relief when she saw him. He remembered seeing red at the sight of her bruised face and blood soaked stomach. Yes, Bass would teach her. He would teach her everything he knew so that he would never have to find her like that again. He would teach her so that the next time someone came at her, it would be her knife in the assailant's skull, not his.

Charlie nodded just once and the two fell into silence. When Miles came to fetch them, the dead buried -- her father, buried -- and the survivors ready to leave, Charlie limped past him, ignoring the visible flinch from her uncle and the consoling hand Bass placed on the man's shoulder. She wasn't ready to forgive. Not yet.

**_one more for you guys! the first couple chapters until we reach present day will be kinda slow and boring and short, im sorry! but please keep reading, it'll pick up soon! Just two more chapters until it picks up!_**


	3. Saving a Life

Seven years, sometimes Bass wasn't sure how they all survived that long without power. Life expectancy had dropped by nearly fifteen years, countless children died far before they had even managed to truly live -- his own child, taken far before her time.

He couldn't speak, couldn't see, couldn't hear -- he was numb, painfully aware of everything and yet unable to comprehend any of it. He could still see her, dark curls just barely seen from beneath the soiled sheets. He didn't feel the tears that streaked down his cheeks, didn't feel his jaw trembling, he just didn't feel anything. He didn't feel anything until small hands grabbed his, steering him carefully from the tent to another. He couldn't feel anything but those hands, he didn't feel that water that his hands were plunged into, nimble fingers washing the blood from them until the water was crimson and his hands weren't.

Maybe he whimpered, maybe he sobbed, he wasn't sure; what he did know, is that his throat tightened and arms suddenly engulfed him, pulling him down until his head was cushioned on a lap, those nimble fingers now carding through his hair while soft words were whispered above him.

Fifteen year old Charlie rocked the trembling marine, whispering futile words of comfort as she held the broken man. Miles sat at Sebastian's other side, eyes tired and sad as he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. Charlie briefly wondered if that grip hurt, noting the way her uncle's scarred knuckles turned white with the touch; Sebastian said nothing against it though, so neither did she.

It took two days for Sebastian to move from her arms except for the occasional trip to the bathroom. When he finally did, it was more so because Miles told him he stunk, and it was only long enough to drag the broken man to the river to scrub himself clean.

"You don't have to stay," he croaked when he returned to his tent to find an also freshly bathed Charlie sitting on his cot, two bowls of venison stew in her hands. He tried to smile at the familiar annoyed look cast in her direction. "I'm…" he wanted to say he was fine, but Charlie knew him. Hell, the teen probably knew him just as well as Miles did. 4 years of training the girl, learning her movements and shaping her into the warrior she was slowly becoming, had resulted in a bond he scarcely believed was possible; it was, perhaps, just shy of the bond he held with Miles, and that was a frightening realization.

"Eat, before you pass out and I have to lug your ass around," a simple order that would have bristled him had it come from anyone but her or her uncle. He grudgingly complied, sitting beside her without another word. He ate slowly, the stew settling in his stomach before churning and he winced, barely refraining from throwing it all back up. He got just past halfway through the bowl before he couldn't eat anymore and passed the bowl to Miles who had taken up sitting against the pole holding the tent up. The other man didn't even question it, adding the remaining stew to his nearly empty bowl and digging back into it.

"She's gone," he needed to say it, even if it hurt. Charlie leaned against his shoulder, her own bowl a little more than half full still. She pushed her spoon around carelessly through the broth and meat before also handing it over to her uncle.

There wasn't really anything else to say about it, and he was thankful neither Matheson was trying to pressure him into speaking, taking solace in their silent understanding. "It shouldn't have happened," he rasped, thankful again when he was met with silent understanding and agreement. "It won't happen again," those last words were mostly whispered to himself, but he heard the hum of agreement from Charlie and the grunt from Miles. "We won't let it," again he simply received a hum and a grunt. But, that was all he needed. The trio didn't need exhausting words or full plans. They just needed each other, they needed the strong shoulders carried by their companions, they needed the trust they placed in one another -- and that was it.

When dawn came and the previously struggling camp suddenly found themselves with enough food to last the winter, plus four cows, six chicken, two ducks, and three horses -- well, no one needed to ask who brought it to them.

When the month passed with strict guidelines for how things would remain running in their camp, no one questioned it. And when Charlie suggested their camp move, no one argued. And if any of them saw the relief on Sebastian's face when he wasn't the one who had to suggest it, well none of them said anything about it. It was time for a fresh start, it was time for them to move forward, it was time to make sure their family was okay and would not suffer any further loss.

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**_Another quick chapter! just one more before the chapters get longer and things really start to happen!_**

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	4. Been Here Before

10 years -- he scarcely believed it was possible. Sometimes, Sebastian awoke with a feeling of dread, he awoke wondering if he was actually dead and this was all just hell. Today had been no different.

The Co-president of the ever growing Monroe republic woke in a cold sweat, hand gripping the revolver beneath his pillow. The busty redhead warming the other side of his bed was still fast asleep, and he briefly wondered if he should kick her out, her squirming becoming increasingly annoying. The sky was still dark, though he could see flecks of orange and pink on the horizon, sunrise slowly greeting the rest of the world.

The man laid back again, hand moving off the Revolver and he stared at the ceiling in silence. It had been three years since the Militia began. Three years since the forming of their Republic. Some days were rough, some days he doubted everything they were doing. But they needed to form some semblance of a government, of law and order. Their camp had continued to grow, and no one ever thought twice about looking to the two men who had defended them for so long. No one even questioned it when Charlie was added to the decision making.

A shuddering breath pushed from his lungs before Sebastian stood, bare feet pressing to the cold wood. _One_. He shut his eyes, wrinkles forming in the corners as they clenched shut. _Two_. Flashes of images, of Shelley and his unnamed baby girl, bombarded his mind. _Three_. Red, everything was red. Crimson rivlets washing over everything. _Four_. His chest tightened with grief, his heart stuttering in his chest as he struggled to take a full breath. _Five_. He took a step forward, dressing quickly, leaving the sleeping woman in his bed. _Six_. The door pushed open without a sound and he moved like a ghost through the halls, eyes staring blankly ahead. _Seven_. Grief continued bombarding his senses. Ben, Shelley, the baby. _Eight_. He paused by the door leading into the courtyard, nausea twisting in his stomach. _Nine_. He braced his palm on the door, sucking in a sharp breath to steady himself, eyes shutting again. _Ten_. He opened his eyes again, steel flooding through the blue. He stood straight, pushing the grief back, pushing everything into the farthest corners of his mind. He only gave himself ten seconds. Ten seconds, every morning, before he had to be the General. Ten seconds of doubt and guilt and hate and grief.

He pushed the door open, eyes softening at the sight that greeted him. Charlotte stood with Miles, grinning at her uncle as he unwrapped and crudely dressed gift. Blue turned on blue, the grin on Charlie's face infectious, and soon he could feel his own lips quirking up. "What happened to waiting until tonight?" He taunted the girl -- no, she was a woman now. Just past her own eighteenth birthday. He wouldn't belittle how she had grown, he wouldn't deny her the right of being an adult. A small pink tongue jutted out at him, and he laughed. God it felt good to laugh. "And here I was just thinking how grown up you were," he taunted.

"Well if you hadn't slept in, you could have been here to help give it to him," she chirped back, turning her gaze from him to her uncle. Only she would think waking up after sunrise was sleeping in. He turned his eyes to the horizon, watching the various colors lighting up in the distance. "Open it already!" She was basically bouncing where she stood when Sebastian looked back at the pair and moved closer until he was standing beside her. "It's frown the both of us," she told Miles, grinning again at Sebastian before turning those eager eyes back to her uncle.

Miles glanced between them, trying his best to look annoyed at the fuss, and at being awake so early, but they all knew the truth. None of them slept much, none of them woke much later than the other. Years of war, of death, of loss -- it resulted in nightmares, in the need to connect with others who understood. And this, this was a tradition, for all of their birthdays now.

Finally the man just chuckled and pulled the twine from the brown wrapping, dark eyes brightening just briefly at the sight of a nice bottle of whiskey, before skimming over the smooth blade of a new sword.

"Yours shattered on the last mission," Charlie supplied, noting the confused twist of his lips. "And Bass and I agreed that seeing you with just one sword was like watching a fish out of water," Sebastian tried to fight the grin, watching Mile's face twist with annoyance at the rib.

"It's true. You swing one arm and the other goes to swing too and just founders about," he taunted, side stepping the punch aimed for his gut, ducking behind the laughing blonde.

"I have to head out, but I'll be back at noon for drinks," Charlie promised, leaning up to press her lips to her uncle's cheek. "Behave yourselves," he didn't miss the firm look she turned at him. He just lifted his hands in playful surrender. "I'm serious, Bass. Don't get him drunk before your meetings. We don't need another incident like last year." And then she was gone like a whirlwind that she was.

The brothers just chuckled and Sebastian locked his arm around Miles' shoulder, steering him back inside.

Hours ticked by with a slowness that nearly had Sebastian ripping his hair out. When the sundial -- and wasnt that just weird, sundials were all they had to tell time with again -- pushed towards twelve, Sebastian and Miles moved quickly towards the Bar.

They hadn't been sitting for more than fifteen minutes, taunting and reliving old memories nearly forgotten, when suddenly there was blinding pain. Everything was ringing, he couldn't hear anything, could barely even see straight. Sebastian groaned, trying to force himself up, trying to force himself to see straight. Suddenly he wished he couldn't see anything at all, the sight of an unconscious Miles damn well nearly ripping his heart out, but then everything was black.

When Sebastian came to, he was distinctly aware of a weight in his hand and on his thigh. He blinked the fuzz from his vision, head rolling to the side to see a slop of gold resting on him. "Charlotte," he croaked, squeezing the callused hand clutching his own. Tired blues slowly opened, a sleepy smile crossing her freckles face.

"Well, at least you're alive. We were worried that explosion might have done you in." She spoke softly, not moving for several moments, slowly coming back to her senses before she slowly sat up, her hand pulling away from him so that she could stretch. "Miles is in the next room," she spoke before he could even ask, "Mom and Danny are with him. He's…" The frown on her face made his heart clench, panic swelling in his chest. "He's alive, but that blast caught him the worst. Doc says he is lucky to be alive. If he makes it through tonight, he should be in the clear."

That was all four days ago. Miles had made it through the night, and the night after, but he hadn't woken up yet. Sebastian had been up the following morning, hunting down the bastards who threatened to take away his family.

"Bass, no!" Charlie's snarl broke through his thoughts, standing before a fat old man and his wife. The teen son and four year old twins standing just behind their parents. Sebastian's jaw twitched, hands balling into fists until his knuckles were white from the strain. "Bass, this isn't what Miles would want, they're children. Bass, please don't do this." He wanted to listen to her. He wanted to order his men down. He wanted to show mercy, but Miles hadn't woken up yet. Miles was still unconscious with a fever, a fever that could kill him. "Bass, if you do this, you will lose everything. One week," she pleaded, the pair standing away from the family of five and the execution line. Her fingers clutched the fabric of his uniform jacket. "One week, Bass. If he isn't awake in a week, I will put a bullet in all of them myself. Please." He finally pulled his eyes from the family to her face, and he knew the grief on her face was just a reflection of his own, but she relaxed and released a breath, her temple falling to his chest, shoulders deflating.

"Just him, for now." Bass rasped, voice still raw from the dust and the smoke from the explosion. He didn't even need to give the order, the soldiers shoving the family back into their home, the American Flag burning on the asphalt. The fat old man was drug from his family, snarling and spitting curses at the pair. Charlie's hand slid into his own, pulling him back towards Independence Hall, back towards his brother.

Miles woke the next morning. He watched as a single coffin was loaded onto the back of a carriage. He watched his niece place a hand on his brother's arm; he didn't miss the way his brother leaned into that touch, didn't miss the exhausted relief on both of their faces. And, when Miles questioned them as to what happened later, he wrapped them both into the tightest embrace he could manage. The three held onto one another, soaking in the warmth and safety of family; each of them thankful for the other, each of them relieved that a line wasn't crossed this time, each of them wondering what could have happened had that line been crossed.


	5. Giving up on you

"No." One word, two letters -- that's all it took for a furious gaze to turn towards him. "You aren't going, Charlotte. Neville and his son can handle it, there is no point in you going." Except, of course, to spend time the the youngest Neville.

"Then it's a damn good thing I'm not asking for permission." A golden brow arched in his direction, hands poised on her hips. Sebastian had always known her to be stubborn, but never stupid. And now she was making the stupidest decision she could ever possibly make. "I am going, Sebastian, and you cannot force me to stay." Well, that wasn't entirely true. They both knew he quite literally could force her to remain, but they also knew he wouldn't. "No, not another word," blue eyes narrowed at him, his lips parted to speak before snapping back closed. "I'm twenty three and damn near sick of seeing my mom and Miles going at it like rabbits. I need space, Bass. I need to figure out who I am, outside of Philly. Plus, Kelly hates Miles -- sending me to do the treaty negotiations is a sign of good faith and it keeps those two from starting a war just because." His jaw clenched, so maybe it wasn't such a stupid idea after all.

"Three weeks, any longer and I will send a recovery team," he warned, voice barely more than a growl. The blonde just smiled and nodded, use to getting her way when it came to the Generals, or anyone for that matter. "Keep a knife in your boot at all times," he instructed, standing and moving around his desk, depositing a small blade into her open palm. "Bring this back to me, in one piece," she just continued to smile. The blade was simple, a simple thin blade with a simple carved handle -- it was a blade she knew well, had seen him use more than once, a blade that had more to do with his past than he had ever managed to share with her, but she knew its significance to him. More than that, she knew his concern rested not with the blade, but her.

"This isn't my first solo mission, Bass," and he knew that, but even still. Dread filled his heart, watching her mount his own chestnut stallion. "I'll send word immediately should anything happen," a promise she always shared with him. A promise she had yet to break. "I'll see you in three weeks," and then she was gone, galloping down the road with six other men. He watched as she met with the Nevilles at the gate, watched the small twitch on the youngest's Neville's face -- Nipples, he mildly acknowledged, chuckling softly at the memory of hearing Miles call the youth that for the first time. Three week was plenty of time for something to happen, to go wrong. The general released a shuddering breath, trying to force himself to calm down and drag his thoughts from Charlotte and her journey to Georgia.

It took exactly two days for Miles to storm into his office, the heavy oak doors slamming against the wall, the brass knob imbedding itself in the drywall. "You let her go to Georgia?" Sebastian wasn't sure he'd ever heard the man's voice so shrill, so exhausted, so panicked. He drug a tired hand through his hair, wincing briefly when his fingers got tangled in the short curls before breaking the tangle and dragging the rest of the way through. "She's just a kid! She isn't ready for this type of mission! What the hell were you thinking letting her go, and with Neville? Are you insane? You're insane!" The marine briefly wondered if these were his brother's words or Rachel's.

"Have you ever been able to tell her no?" He settles for instead, rising from his desk to pour himself a small glass of whiskey. They both knew the answer to that of course though, they knew Charlie would do whatever the hell she wanted to, whenever the hell she wanted to, their input be damned. "She chose this, and either I agree and let her go with people we trust, or she runs off on her own." The whiskey burned the back of his throat as he knocked it back, a hiss pushing past his lips before turning to face Miles. "Three weeks and she'll be back."

It was the first time in nearly seven years that Miles had punched him outside of training. Seven years ago, it had lead to a full out brawl that a terrified Charlie had to break up. His tongue swiped across his lower lip before spitting a glob of blood onto the floor directly in front of Miles. "Do that again, and I'll kick your ass." Sebastian always had been the better hand to hand fighter, and it was only for Charlie that he didn't retaliate. He received a snarl in response, the sight of Miles turning his back and stalking out of his office sending a chill down his spine.

Sebastian didn't see the other man much over the following week, his days dominated by meetings and war councils, but he should have known. He should have known Miles wasn't going to let it go that easy; Charlie was his niece, Charlie meant the world to him, and with Rachel whispering in his ear he should have known that Miles would do something. He never, not in his wildest dreams, expected that something to be holding him at gunpoint.

"Miles?" He grasped, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, vision fuzzy in the corners as he fought off sleep. He saw the tick of Miles' jaw, the frustration and a hint of fear and grief clear in his eyes no matter how much he tried to hide it.

They stared at one another, neither moving even an inch, Sebastian laying bare chested and propped up on his elbows, Miles staring down at him with the Pistol just inches from Sebastian's nose.

"I'm sorry," the words were nearly drowned out by the sound of the safety going off the gun. Sebastian dove, throwing himself off the bed and onto the floor, his pillow exploding with the impact of a bullet, his ears ringing from the proximity of the shot. Still, he forced himself to his feet, but when he rose, Miles was gone.

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**My goal is to update every Monday and Thursday! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Starting now, things are going to start picking up as we settle into where my plot begins and get a bit more AU from the show! Please let me know what you think!**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx


	6. Let Someone Go

"Miss Matheson," god did she hate that seedy voice, almost as much as she hated the face the voice belonged to. Charlotte turned to face Captain Neville, blue eyes narrowed warily at the dark skinned man. "I have some… unfortunate," she didn't miss the smirk that twitched at the corner of his lips, "news regarding the Generals and your mother. Come with me please."

She rose quickly from her place by the fire, stalking towards him, "what happened to then? Are they okay?" She demanded, fists balled at her sides while her mind went from scenario to scenario, replaying them over in her head.

"Come with me," Neville repeated, his hand suddenly on her arm and yanking her forward, steering her further from the fire and the rest of their garrison. "Your mother and uncle have been branded traitors of the Republic, I am to question you to determine whether you knew of their plot or not." A shiver ran up her spine.

Tom Neville wasn't a particularly skilled interrogator, he didn't use skill or decisive methods to extract the information he needed. Infact, he had only ever successfully extracted needed information from three rebels in his time with the Militia. He used brute force, often beating prisoners to death before they could speak.

"On whose orders?" She didn't let her voice waved, didn't let him see any fear. Neville seemed the type to crave fear. "Bass would never let you interrogate me," or she hoped he wouldn't. From the flash of anger and disgust in the Captain'§ eyes, she felt a mild sense of relief that Sebastian had not actually given the order. "Lay a hand on me, Captain, and Sebastian will kill you, but first he will kill Jason and Jullia. I don't know what happened, but you will give me three men and I will be returning to Philadelphia to discuss things further with him." They were brave words for someone being shoved down into a rickety old chair, and she was silently praying to whatever God there was, that he would prove to have at least a sliver of a brain.

"I don't think I will," was all she got before her vision danced with the dark, her cheek lighting up with excruciating pain. Blood spilled from her mouth, her teeth having sliced into her inner cheek from the force of the punch. After a moment, a glob of that blood found its way onto the sneering dark face looming over her. She wasn't entirely sure what happened after that, her memories clouded by pain and darkness and blood, but when she came to, her entire body ached. She could feel the blood still trickling from her nose, and the gash over her right brow had blood leaking slowly around her eye, causing her eye to burn and her vision to grow fuzzier and fuzzier until she couldn't see anything at all from it. But with her left, she could just make out the form of Tom Neville, crumpled to the floor with blood trailing from his own temple, Jason standing over him with a look of panic and determination.

"Jason," she croaked, voice hoarse and strange to her own ears. Dark brown eyes rose to her, and that was the last thing she remembered.

The second time she awoke, the sky was bright with the morning sun, a canopy of leaves and limbs doing little to block out the rays. Charlie moaned and rolled, turning her head to try and hide from the brightness.

"Hey kid," she bolted up, her eyes meeting with the exhausted face of her uncle and bitter face of her mother. "Try not to move too much, Neville did a good number on ya. You're lucky Nipples was there, or you'd have been dead." She simply found herself blinking stupidly at the man, fingers twisting through the dew covered blades of green beneath her. Birds screamed, their shrill calls echoing through her mind as she tried to process.

Miles gave her a moment, his eyes never leaving hers. "What did you do?" She rasped, gaze finally leaving him to search for a familiar slop of gold. "Where is Danny?" She didn't miss her mother's flinch or the sigh from Miles. "Where is my brother?" She demanded once again.

"Sebastian killed him," Charlie had heard a lot of bad shit. She had heard her mother scream and shout and fight against the worst men she had ever met, but she had never heard her mother's voice so cold, so bitter, so detached. "After we… left," there were three beats of silence while Rachel grappled for the right words, "he sent a helicopter after us. I had finished the amplifier, and he sent a Chopper after us and he killed your brother."

All she could hear were the cries of the birds, the wind shaking the branches of the green canopy, the shrill ringing of her own ears. She could hear her own heart beat, could taste the salt and copper of her own tears mixing with blood as they streaked down her cheeks. Sebastian wouldn't, he wouldn't have killed Danny. Danny was family. Bass was family. He wouldn't kill Danny.

Her gaze once more found her uncle's, searching for anything that might suggest this was just some cruel joke, but the man couldn't even look at her anymore, his knuckles white from their grip on his sword hilt. "What did you do," she found herself whispering again. Miles just shook his head and stood, helping her up as well.

"We have to keep moving, Charlie. Bass will have sent people after us by now, even more when Neville reports back to him. We gotta go." She didn't want to move though, her legs like jelly beneath her, nausea twisting in her gut. Two arms moved around her, hauling her to her feet despite the pain, her crossbow shoved into her hands. "It's a long way to Colorado, we have to move, kid."

She couldn't mount an argument, letting herself be steered along by Jason, ignoring the cold looks from her mother and the glances from Miles. She couldn't catch a full breath, much less wrap her mind around the information she had received, and for the briefest of moments, she wanted desperately to pull away from them and run, back to Bass. Back to Philly to demand the truth straight from the man himself. But she didn't. She couldn't. So, she walked and she walked and she walked some more, until the sun tave way to the moon and she let herself succumb once more to the darkness of unconsciousness.

**Thank you for reading! i am sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted! this week has been hectic with the arrival of my very own Bass! check him out over on instagram @outlaw.bass ! he's the cutest little pup you ever did say ;) and he lives up to his name pretty well!**


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